The Start of Madness
by Kagelu
Summary: A young Feanor after hearing of his father's approaching marriage
1. Chapter 1

The Start of Madness

A tidbit that was been lurking in the cobwebs of my brain that I need to clear to make way for more stuff. Set in Feanor's early childhood after he heard the announcement of his father's new marriage.

Disclaimer: I do not own Feanor and never claimed to.

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Feanor could not understand and so he ran.

Young as he was, he ran through the halls so fast most caught only a glimpse of red robes and black hair.

He ran as fast as he can, his mind in a whirl.

Bewildered.

Horrified.

His father, the king Finwe had summoned his son to his study after dinner. His beloved Atar and lord announced to the son of Míriel that he intended to wed another-spoken lightly as one would comment on the weather. Feanor was shocked such that he could not moved nor spoke. Not that it was necessary; Finwe in his oblivious bliss, excitedly rumbled on to his beloved child of the siblings Indis would soon give Feanor and the joy that his firstborn will once more know a mother's love.

A mother's love? Those words shook Feanor to the core and he stared hard at Finwe.

How could his father, the one he loved and adored above all beings be so heartless? How could his father so casually replace his mother so?

Feanor was told by Finwe himself that all life is precious and each individual is unique. How then can his father replace one with another as if they were clothes to be worn and discarded at whim?

How can one be so heartless? But even more incomprehensible was the flow of elves who came in crowds to wish the king well. How can they so carelessly dismissed one whom they had shade bitter tears a mere three years past.

Are not their people suppose to be bind for eternity? What then is this?!

Why do they praise this mockery of what they once claimed was part of the central of their being?

He could not understand, did not want to understand!

So he submitted himself to the fire that was his fea and thus the slow consumption of his mind by his very own flame.


	2. Chapter 2

This second drabble was inspired by a recent commercial where this lady strong her husband into doing something for her via emotional blackmail.

Somehow it translated into this…

Finwe sighed as looked upon the tall form of his eldest. So fast, where has the time gone? He had expected his son to be surprise when he announced his decision to re-wed so long

ago. He had expected his son to share in his joy of finally having a complete family again. The reaction of his flame had been, to put it mildly, a rude shock to the king and made him realized that he might not have understood his young son as well as he thought.

However, the wedding date had been fixed and he could not bear the thought of hurting his beloved Indis with the news that it might be postponed. Thus the plans had when ahead as scheduled. Thankfully Feanor was young enough then that no one questioned his absence at the ceremony.

Now that he was honest with himself, he feared there is a wide rift that could not be crossed.

Feanor pointedly ignoring his father. He knew what this talk was about, Finwe had raised it every time Feanor had skipped out on another 'family' gathering.

"Please ion, Indis is trying her best and so are your siblings. Why do you keep your distance from them, from us?"

"You are a poor liar, Adar. The truth is my presence disturbs them and they…I will not upset you with my feelings about them." Feanor turned unseeing eyes to fix determinedly on the far wall.

Finwe pleaded one last time. "Please, will you accept them for your love of me?"

The reaction was immediate. Finwe barely had time to dodge the fall of his desk when Feanor knocked it over as he stood up.

"For the love of you?! You do not know, nay you have no idea what I have accepted for the love I bear you!"


	3. Chapter 3

Author▓s notes: I have often thought that Feanor might not have grown so bitter and mad if he was given space and distance from his father▓s second family. Afterall, is not some mythologies contain characters driven insane due to constant pecking at a wound?

Feanor stares in horror at the elf before him. In morbid wonder, he questions when did the elf he called father turned into this monster who would condemn his own wife, Feanor▓s mother, the Lady of the Nolder √ Mirel. And now he asks his son to dance on his mother▓s grave. He would not! Could not!

His father is saying something but he does not hear. What is there left to say after all that has happened.

The bond between lovers of the Firstborn would normally in the event of the death of one lead to the fading of the other.

When Finwe reached for his son, the hand was up before Curufinwe even had to think, the words yelled from the depths of grief and despair. ⌠Don▓t touch me, you murderer!■

Stun silence.

Aghast, adar & ion stare at each other and somehow knew that they have broken something irreplaceable that can never be mend in all the ages of Arda.

With a start, Feanor came to consciousness, heart beating wildly. He sat up, gaze darting about the room. Then with recognition, came memory, came relief.

He was in his own room, his father had summon him to the study. Finwe had spoken and Feanor had feign ignorance. The Spirit of Fire could feel the anger escalating at such alarming speed within, the latter had feared what he himself, would do when the fury reached it▓s height.

Then Finwe had asked that question and Feanor had shouted that al statement that almost became a catalyst for... Only the strong love for his father that had held him back for so long, gave him a sudden flash of clarity just as he was about to speak the unforgivable words that laid hidden deep within his heart for so long. That moment was all he needed to make himself flee the study before he hurt himself and his father.

And now here he was in the cottage his mother had kept in a hidden corner of the castle. He has fled here many a time when the fact that his father had indirectly murdered his mother became too heavy a burden to bear. Finwe does not visit this place and none of the servants dare so he was safe.

Safe enough that he could grieve, without anyone know the hate he tries not to show towards his adar. Hate that constantly threatens to erupts to the surface like earlier in the study, that even now haunts his dreams of what could be. Feanor curled in and bit his lips as he wept silent bitter tears. 


End file.
